Learning to Live Gently in the Waiting

This is always the hardest time of year for me.

I love sunshine and long days. And right now, the days feel especially dark and short (rainy, gray, and heavy) here in the Pacific Northwest. The Christmas lights have come down around the neighborhood, and there’s a familiar sense that we’re simply waiting. Waiting for light. Waiting for spring. We even celebrate the lengthening of the days by a single minute at a time.

For a long time, I thought the discomfort of this season meant I was doing something wrong... resisting, failing to stay positive, wishing life would move faster than it was meant to. But I’m learning that this season isn’t a problem to solve. It’s an invitation to live differently.

Not every season is meant for momentum.

Some seasons ask us to slow down. To rest. To stop demanding clarity or productivity from days that are meant for quiet endurance. This time of year has been teaching me that wisdom often looks less like progress and more like patience.

When life feels dim or unresolved, the work shifts. It’s no longer about figuring everything out. It becomes about learning how to care for yourself while you wait.

For me, that looks like embracing cozy where I can: warm blankets, a hot drink held between my hands, candles lit earlier than I’d prefer, beautiful music filling the quiet spaces of the evening. These aren’t indulgences. They’re small acts of attentiveness and ways of signaling to the body and soul that it’s safe to slow down.

I’m reminding myself that rest is not a reward for finishing things. It’s a way of staying present when things remain unfinished.

Each season carries its own lesson.And this one is teaching me how to soften rather than push. How to conserve warmth. How to trust that light returns in its own time, even when the days feel long.

If you’re in a darker season too, maybe today’s work isn’t to push through or rush ahead, but simply to make yourself a little warmer where you are.

Sometimes, that’s enough.